


Inheritance

by Zenith_Lux



Series: Through the Ashes [13]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dadgil week, Fluff, Gen, Nero misses Yamato a bit., Vergil is best teacher, father/son bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 21:30:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21416980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zenith_Lux/pseuds/Zenith_Lux
Summary: Nero has a rather simple question for Vergil. What he gets out of it is… unexpected to say the least. But not unwelcome. After all, it's never too late to figure things out between them.
Relationships: Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Series: Through the Ashes [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1477619
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Inheritance

**Author's Note:**

> My first story for Dadgil week! Honestly I've been thinking about this one for awhile but hadn't got to it yet. So here it is!
> 
> Also, for those of you that may not have read Blazing Tempest (or any of the other stories in the series) don't worry. There are some spoilers just by nature of the expanded world thing I've got going on. If you're interested in how we got to this point, I'd highly recommend reading the rest first. If you're just looking for some Dadgil goodness, this stands just fine on its own.
> 
> Anyway, Hope you enjoy :)

Nero had been sitting on the simplest question for almost eight years. Even then, after everything they've been through, he still had no idea when to actually ask it. 

_ Can you teach me how to use Yamato? _

He’d repeated this thought in his head over and over, in multiple different ways. But he had yet to find the right time to say it. In retrospect, there had probably been many suitable moments, but Nero always talked himself out of asking the question. 

_ I've used it before. _

‘Poorly’ would be a fair ending to that sentence. He had used it like a sword… and that was about it. Of course, at the time, he thought he was quite proficient with it. Yamato sliced through demons like butter and was clearly stronger than Red Queen. But he was also young, dumb, reckless, and never considered that the Yamato could be anything more than a fancy sword that somehow buried itself into his demonic arm. 

_ I did that portal thing once. But, I still don’t know how I did it. _

Nero had thought about that day many times for a variety of reasons. Destruction of Fortuna aside, (which still haunted him to some degree, even though the city was well into its reconstruction) the creation of that portal - the only portal he had ever made in his entire life - had virtually been an accident. He had just… done it. He didn’t even know why he had tried. It shouldn’t have worked. But he had been tired, frustrated, and overflowing with an egregious amount of demonic energy that he hadn’t reached since. Months later, he realized he hadn’t even been _ thinking _during it. It just… happened. 

_ I know it means a lot to you. _

That was probably Nero’s greatest hurdle in this conundrum of his. Yamato was almost everything to Vergil. A relic of his father passed down to him. A piece of his power, and a way to channel it. Nero would even argue it was a strange type of security blanket, though he would never _ ever _say that to his father’s face. As long as Vergil had Yamato, he was invincible. 

Of course, Nero would argue that he was invincible regardless, as his father’s devil half was absurdly strong. But Yamato, while demonic, was for his human side. A weapon he could use without triggering. In fact, Nero was certain it fused with his demon half, as that version of Vergil relied more on spectral swords and doppelgangers to do what he needed. He could summon it, but it was his human half that clearly preferred it. 

_ I promise I won’t use it for long. You can stay right here until I give it back. _

That was probably the worst line he had thought of in all of these years. It sounded like something he would say when trying to take the remote from Angelica or inspecting one of Kai’s feathers like Ashira asked him to. Not a comforting sentence to utter to a grown man that could fairly easily put Nero in the dirt if he wanted. 

But Nero understood what he was asking. Even Ashira - Vergil’s closest companion in every sense of the word - had only handled the blade a single time. And that had been in a life or death situation, and had completely rendered her blind within a few minutes. Dante had used Yamato for a time, but Nero had never heard him bring it up no matter how much he teased his brother. For Dante having it meant Vergil didn’t, which brought up unwanted memories for everyone involved. 

_ You know, just in case I need it. _

That was the lamest of his reasons. If Nero ever needed Yamato, then Vergil was either incapacited, imprisoned, or dead. And even if that did happen - and Vergil could somehow give Yamato to someone - he would probably give it to Ashira. Not because he wanted to spite Nero or anything (never that. Nero trusted his father as much as anyone else now). But because of their whole soulbound “my life tied to yours” thing. If he made her stronger, they’d all have a better chance. At least, that was Nero’s logic, and he wouldn’t blame Vergil for doing so.

And he didn’t need Yamato. Not at all. So he didn’t know why he wanted to use it so badly.

Maybe it was because he still felt a strange connection to it. That hint of power that his younger self had felt, but never tapped into because he didn’t know what it really was. Maybe he wanted to show himself that he _ could _do it. That he was as strong as his father, even though their relatively even sparring matches already proved that. Maybe his demon side wasn’t as strong as Vergil’s but…

The shriek of a demon yanked him out of his thoughts. He reached for Red Queen, but stopped himself when he met his father’s quizzical gaze. “Distracted?” Vergil said as he ripped Yamato out of the demon’s chest. Nero found he didn’t have a good answer. His eyes flickered to Yamato as Vergil sheathed it without looking. Then his cheeks flushed when he realized what he was doing, and he spun around and stabbed another demon (_ that one was already dead you idiot) _and tried not to think about it.

“Nero?” Vergil said. 

“Yo! What’s up?” Nero said as he side-eyed his father with a way too large nothing-is-wrong-I-promise grin. The arch of Vergil’s eyebrow alone told him that ruse had failed spectacularly. “All done here?”

Vergil watched him for far too long. “I cleared the last portal ten minutes ago.” 

_ Oh. _“Then what are all these guys doing here?”

If it was possible, Vergil’s eyebrow raised even higher. “You demanded that you take care of them.”

Nero rubbed at his neck sheepishly. “Well there you go. Taken care of.”

Vergil’s eyes narrowed. Nero shrugged and whipped away from him again as he reached for his phone. “You’re free to go home if you want. Nico and I…”

“What’s upsetting you?”

Nero flinched, but stifled his groan. A part of him was oddly proud. Eight years ago (Hell, even two years ago if Nero was completely honest with himself) Vergil never would have asked such a question. As strong as his father was physically, he wouldn’t recognize emotions if they smacked him in the face. Or, in Ashira’s case, were projected directly into his head, and even then he sometimes missed them. For him to notice that something was off with Nero was a big improvement. “Not upset.” Nero said. “Honest.”

“But something is on your mind.”

“That’s usually the case, yeah.” Nero glanced back, but immediately looked away when he realized Vergil was _ glaring _at him now. He could practically feel his father’s demon half growling in annoyance. Here Vergil was trying his best and Nero was avoiding the question. 

But what could he say?

“Ashira and I will be leaving soon.” Vergil said. 

That pulled Nero back. “Again?”

Another quizzical eyebrow. Nero thought he should just keep it that way. “It’s been two years since our last trip.” He said. “And there have been rumors of a corrupted reaver that we cannot ignore.”

_ Of course not. _Nero thought. “Well I hope that works out for you.”

“But you…”

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t...”

“Honestly, Dad.” He said. “I’m…”

“It is unwise to…”

“I want to use Yamato again.” 

Silence fell between them seconds after Nero realized what he had said. Of all the different ways he thought this conversation would go, blurting it out because his father had managed to fluster _ him _for once (without trying) and not the other way around was not one of them. But the look on Vergil’s face was also not something Nero had envisioned. He looked… baffled. Was that a hint of panic in his eyes? Surely not. Vergil never panicked about anything. Except when Angelica broke her arm messing around in a tree, but even then he had controlled it. Nero almost wanted to laugh, but he was too caught in his own anxiety. Vergil looked frozen in time. Lost somewhere between this world and whatever one his brain had thrown him into. 

Seconds later, he blinked once and everything returned to normal. Nero exhauled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s understandable.” Vergil said. 

“...What?”

“You did use it for quite some time.”

Now it was Nero’s turn to be confused. Was it that simple? Was Vergil… considering it? Okay with it? Had pondered it himself? “I never used it well though.” Nero said. “At least… not like you do.”

His father’s gaze was almost deadly, though Nero didn’t think it was directed at him exactly. Vergil was always like that; wilting people’s self-esteem with his eyes alone. But he was unusually tense. Twitchy, even. It was subtle, but there. “Dante’s teaching was clearly inadequate.” 

“He didn’t really tell me anything. Just said he wanted to ‘keep it in the family’ or whatever.” 

“Thoughtful.” 

Was he… mad now?

_ What the hell’s happening? _

“You are well past the age I suppose.” Vergil said. 

“The age of…?”

“I should have given you an inheritance by now.” He looked weary at the thought. Nero didn’t miss the way his father’s hand tightened on his trusty scabbard. “My father gave me Yamato when I was very young.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Nero said. “I’m not asking for it. I just…”

“Though I’m reluctant to say that I can do the same myself at the moment.”

“Dad?”

“But I had not considered…”

“Vergil!”

His father blinked. “Yes?”

“It’s fine.” Nero said. “I just wanted to… I don’t know… learn how to do what you do. Just in case.”

For a long moment, Vergil said nothing. The eerie silence was painful. Nero felt the sudden urge to apologize. For what exactly, he didn’t know. But deep within that stoic expression of Vergil’s, was a weird hint of pain. As if _ he _ thought _ he’d _ done something wrong. Then, very slowly - almost hesitant, if Vergil ever did so - he unsheathed Yamato and held the hilt out to Nero. “There’s still a few demons left.” 

When Nero took it, however, he nearly dropped it. It had been over a decade since he had last held Yamato, but he knew without a doubt that it felt different now. Before, the energy had been like a gentle wave that drifted mostly between the sword and his demon arm. But now the power within it crashed into him like a tsunami, overwhelming his senses. His demon roared in his head, and Nero barely shoved it down. A flame burst on his hand, but Vergil ripped Yamato away before it did any lasting damage. “What did I do?” Nero said. “That was…”

“Yamato’s power comes from its wielder.” Vergil said. “More specifically, her power is drawn from their soul.”

“Her?” Nero said with a quiet snort. 

Vergil’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.” He said simply. “And she has been linked to myself for quite some time.”

“I didn’t have my own trigger last time.” Nero said. 

“True.” Vergil said. “But you have that under control and Yamato would know it.”

“Then why…?”

“I believe my connection to the Phoenix has made this more complicated than I thought it would be.” When Nero only tilted his head, Vergil continued. “I feel Ashira’s flames within myself at every moment of the day. Yamato is the only non-reaver weapon that can channel it, and she has been doing it for so long that the flames are an intrinsic part of her power.” He snapped the blade to the side. Blue fire seemed to surge off of his fingers, consuming the blade in an instant, before vanishing completely. “Using Yamato now requires controlling the flames themselves.”

Nero thought he should be hesitating. _ Phoenix fire. _That was something very few people could survive touching, much less controlling. But his excitement was all-consuming. This was his father’s power. Sparda’s blade mixed with Phoenix magic. If he ever hoped to match his father, this is what he needed to overcome. 

Nero held his hand out with a grin. “Teach me then, pops!”

Finally, Vergil’s lips twitched into some semblance of a smile. “Very well. Rest tonight. We’ll meet here in the morning.”

Nero heard the honk of Nico’s van in the distance. He glanced back with a small sigh. “Bright and earl…” 

But Vergil was already gone as the remnants of a portal snapped shut. 

* * *

Nero was out the door by sunrise, much to Nico’s annoyance. “You could’ve warned me.” She grumbled, hunched over at the wheel with a look of pure disdain. Her hair was a mess, frizzy and curled in all the wrong ways, and she hadn’t bothered changing out of her pajamas; an old pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. “Professional enough.” She had muttered more than once.

“I did warn you.” Nero said.

“At midnight!”

“That’s when you came home!”

“I have a phone, devil-boy.”

Nero rolled his eyes. “All the jobs are yours today. Shy’s agreed to take a 25% of the cut instead of the usual 50.”

Nico perked up at that. “You got a list?”

“Check your phone.” He said with a lackadaisical grin. She shot him a glare as they turned the last corner toward the dead zone. Nero was only a little surprised to see Vergil and Ashira already there, sitting on a rooftop murmuring about something. Nero had grown accustomed over the years to seeing his father with her. He’d never been particularly bothered by their relationship. He wanted Vergil to be happy with someone else, as that would probably keep him on the right track long after Nero had moved on. He respected her as his father’s wife, but the two had agreed that calling her his “step-mother” wasn’t needed. 

Nico hit the breaks a bit too hard, nearly throwing Nero through the windshield. “Will you stop that?” He said. 

She grinned back at him. “Just checking your reflexes.”

Nero rolled his eyes as he hopped out of the car. He swore that Vergil gave Ashira a small kiss, but Ashira appeared in front of him so fast that he didn’t think about it too much. “For you.” She said, handing him a golden feather. He nodded, crushing it in his hand and shivering just slightly at the surge of energy. Nero had gotten to use her feathers once or twice before, but it was a rare occurrence. “Have fun.”

“And good luck!” Griffon said as he appeared on her shoulder. “You’re gonna need it, deadweight.”

Nero stopped himself from strangling the bird as Griffon broke into a loud cackle and leapt into the sky. V appeared as both he and Ashira climbed into the van. “Call me when yer done!” Nico called. Then, she slammed on the accelerator, whipped the van around into a wide arc, and took off in the other direction. 

Nero shook his head. How that thing had survived over a decade with her behind the wheel was anyone’s guess.

When Nero looked up to greet his father, Vergil spoke first. “You’re late.”

Nero balked at him. “Late?” He said. “The sun’s barely awake.” Then he realized his father was actually _ smirking _as he hopped off the rooftop and walked away. “Was that a joke?” 

“Make haste, Nero.”

Nero glared at his father’s back, but simply sighed and jogged after him. “So what’s first?” Nero said. “Controlling the fire? Teleporting? Making a doppelganger?” He could practically feel his eyes light up. 

“You don’t need Yamato to learn that.”

Nero stopped dead in his tracks. “I… don’t?”

Vergil hummed in thought as he kept walking. “Maybe not in your current form. Though I am uncertain how you would go about obtaining a new one like Dante and I have.” He stopped as he glanced over his shoulder. “We will start with the basics.”

“Basics?” Nero said. “What like my posture?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

Nero almost toppled over as Vergil appeared in front of him. “Your fighting style works for your weapon, but you will be unable to reach your full potential with Yamato if you use it in the same fashion.” His head tilted just slightly. “You wanted to learn how to fight like I do, did you not?”

Nero rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah it’s just…” He trailed off, unwilling to finish that sentence. This was Vergil’s weapon. His teaching. And if Nero wanted to learn, he’d have to do it the way Vergil wanted it done. “I can’t even hold it yet.”

“It won’t take long.” Vergil walked away again, cutting right across the dead zone without a care in the world. Nero remembered when just looking at it made his father uncomfortable (though he would never admit it). There was nothing here but the occasional demon drawn to the remnants of the Qliphoth tree that would likely never go away. There was very little past it; just a cliffside overlooking a lake with a small farming community somewhere on the other side. Why they had to go there of all places was beyond him. But Vergil was clearly moving with purpose, and all Nero could do was follow close behind. 

By the time Nero caught up, Vergil was standing on the cliffside, Yamato in hand. “You will not be able to use the flames within Yamato like I can.” He said. “Your goal is to control it so that it stays on the blade without consuming you.”

“Consuming me?!”

“I’ve ensured that only her golden flames will manifest today.” Vergil continued. “But the feather will ensure that it does not burn you if something goes wrong.”

“And what exactly _ could _ go wrong?”

“If the flames turn blue, you are to return her to me immediately.” He held Yamato out, scabbard and all. Unlike yesterday, he looked calm and ready to let it go. Nero wondered what had happened overnight to change that. “Take it.” He said. “But keep it sheathed until you get used to the energy within it.”

Nero took a deep breath and nodded as he took Yamato. Again, he felt the Phoenix flames like a pulse of electricity under his skin, but it was duller than it had been the day before. Even so, his demon growled in the back of his mind. It wanted to come out. To use that power for itself. But Nero pushed it back. “Focus on the flames for now.” Vergil said. “Separate them from the power of your demon, and focus on containing them within the blade.”

Nero wasn’t sure how to do that, but he focused entirely on the power pulsing within him. It reminded him of his time with his demon arm, long before he had a full devil form. That thing had been a constant stream of energy. At first, it had driven him close to madness. He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t relax. He ate more food in a day than most people did in a month and fought every demonic thing in a fifty mile radius. He trained with Credo every day to try and channel it into something productive, but he couldn’t exactly ask the church for help. 

It had been Kyrie, of all people, that had figured him out. “Meditate.” She had said. “Breathe, relax, and remember that everything is tied to your arm.”

And she had been 100% right. And she still was, even now. 

So, Nero plopped on the ground, put Yamato across his lap, and focused entirely on it. He heard Vergil chuckle very quietly, followed by a quiet thump beside him. Nero ignored him for the moment, but felt a slight heat in his cheeks. He pretended that was simply the Phoenix flames under his skin and not pure embarrassment. 

For a long time, neither of them spoke. A part of Nero felt self-conscious. How long had it been since he had spent time with just his father? If they happened to go demon hunting together - which was rare nowadays- Nico, Dante, or Ashira were always around somewhere. They sparred sometimes at the house, but since the kids always begged to watch, they had to go easy on each other. Less stabbing more batting each other away (which Vergil was quite good at with the scabbard alone). When they did find time to fight away from everyone, Dante was there, either for a triple free-for-all, or to drag Ashira into battling him. But they had never spent time like this. And Nero wasn’t going to let him down.

Taking a deep breath, Nero clicked Yamato out of the scabbard. The power surged just slightly, but it didn’t hurt as it had before. Slowly, he pulled the sword the rest of the way out, and only opened his eyes once he did so. Gold flames flickered off the blade. Some ran along his fingers, but it didn’t hurt. “Good.” Vergil said with a satisfied nod. “Now to fix your posture.”

Nero scowled at him. The flame pickled his fingers as if in annoyance as he stood up. “Lay it on me.”

* * *

Nero didn’t know how long they stood out there, Vergil criticizing his every movement for hours on end. If Nero learned anything today, it was how an insect felt under a microscope. Everything was under scrutiny. The exact angle of his knees. How high he held the sword compared to his elbows. How tight his shoulders were (or sometimes, how loose he let them get). And Nero had bit his tongue more than once. The last thing he wanted was to snap at his father. Vergil was doing everything right, just in his own way. 

Besides, Nero started to enjoy himself the second Vergil let him actually start fighting with it. Nero had offered him Red Queen, but Vergil simply relied on Fumetsu instead, and had clearly been practicing with it. Yamato was theoretically stronger in the hands of someone more coordinated. But, over time, Nero felt faster. Stronger. For a brief moment, he thought he was moving as fast as Vergil could (though he doubted that). He’d even managed to willingly summon the flames once or twice, though Vergil had absorbed that to keep it from setting the grass on fire. 

Vergil had been right though. Fighting with Yamato the right way was a challenge. Red Queen did better when he was throwing himself into fights with reckless abandon. It could take a beating, clear everything in its path and make it out without a scratch. And while Nero didn’t doubt that Yamato would survive the same amount of punishment, it was a weapon built for finesse and speed. Eventually, Nero found himself shifting to that new style. It was a bit clumsy - and likely would be forever unless he practiced every day - but it was refreshing. Already his mind was racing on how he could use these new techniques in his own fighting. Maybe Nico could build him something new…

A blade snapped past his head. Nero swung Yamato up, but Fumetsu slammed into it. Vergil’s hand grabbed Nero’s wrist, twisted Yamato out of it, and knocked him away. Nero hit the ground hard as he stared up at the sky. Then, he burst into laughter. “I deserved that.”

He heard Yamato click back into its sheethe before Vergil plopped down next to him. “You did well.” 

Nero sat up with a grin. “You think so?”

Vergil nodded. “You take to it well.”

“Maybe.” Nero said. “Not nearly as good as you.”

“That is expected.”

Nero rolled his eyes. “Humble as always.”

Vergil’s lips twitched in a small smile, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Nero…” His voice actually trailed off. That wasn’t normal, but he cleared his throat and kept talking before Nero could say anything. “I have something for you.” He paused for a moment, possibly hesitating (twice in one day? Impossible), then reached into the pocket of his coat. A moment later, he pulled out a golden chain. In his palm was a red crystal surrounded by gold in a rounded, diamond like shape. Both it and the metal shimmered as if he had made it himself the day before. But Nero had seen it before, long ago, back when it and its silver brother were hanging in Dante’s office. 

“Your amulet.” He said. 

Vergil nodded. “Dante used both to make the Devil Sword, but we were able to remake my half last night.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Time, patience, a few demonic books, and some luck.” He shrugged as if it were the easiest thing in the world. “It doesn’t matter.” He held it out to him. “I want you to have it.” 

Nero’s mouth dropped before he could help it. “You want _ me _ to have it?”

“Yes.”

“But that…” He had heard the stories. The amulet was all Vergil had kept when he had fallen into the Underworld. And even though he had lost it to Dante after his enslaved self had been defeated, it had still been one of his greatest treasures. But if that were the case… why hadn’t he tried to retrieve it until now? Had he simply accepted that it was gone? Found something new to take its place? “Are you sure?”

“I know I’ve been gone more as of late.” Vergil said. 

“And I’m happy for you.” Nero said. 

“Regardless,” Vergil said with a small smile. “I have often pondered what would happen if I needed to leave for an extended period of time.”

“You’d be…”

He stopped talking as Vergil held his hand up. “Take this as a promise from me.” He said. “No matter how far away I go or how long I’m gone, I’ll always come back for you. For our family. And I…” His voice caught, but he shook his head and continued. “I’m proud of you.”

Nero stared at him. His mind went blank trying to process how he should respond. A thank you didn’t seem like enough. He wasn’t someone who cried over things like this, something he had picked up from his father. But he didn’t want to just sit there looking like a fool. 

So, he half hugged, half tackled Vergil instead. 

Looking back on it, Nero realized that moment had been a culmination of decades of mixed feelings. In that moment, he was almost a child again. That same, young boy that had once wished for parents to love and bond with. He had grown out of that over the years. Even when finally meeting Vergil, Nero’s life was already at a point that he made his father proud just by existing. So he’d never really gone out of his way to do it. 

But right then, Nero let himself imagine a life where he had grown up with this man as his father. Not the vindictive 19-year-old who had been twisted by grief and fear. But this caring and genuine man who had moved passed all the bullshit the world had thrown at him. And Vergil would always be “Vergil”; calculative, prideful, and sometimes oblivious whenever emotions were involved. But now, after so, _ so _long, Nero could proudly say that he didn’t care. Vergil was his father, and he was happy about it. 

“I love ya, dad.” He said.

Vergil, who had practically frozen after the hug - as he usually did. That was something that would never change - relaxed and finally hugged Nero back. While he said nothing aloud, Nero knew what he was thinking. And that’s all that really mattered.


End file.
